Drinking Song, On the Excellence of Burgundy Wine

My jolly fat host with your face all a-grin,
  Come, open the door to us, let us come in.
  A score of stout fellows who think it no sin
  If they toast till they're hoarse, and drink till they spin,
  Hoofed it amain
  Rain or no rain,
  To crack your old jokes, and your bottle to drain.

  Such a warmth in the belly that nectar begets
  As soon as his guts with its humour he wets,
  The miser his gold, and the student his debts,
  And the beggar his rags and his hunger forgets.
  For there's never a wine
  Like this tipple of thine
  From the great hill of Nuits to the River of Rhine.

  Outside you may hear the great gusts as they go
  By Foy, by Duerne, and the hills of Lerraulx,
  But the rain he may rain, and the wind he may blow,
  If the Devil's above there's good liquor below.
  So it abound,
  Pass it around,
  Burgundy's Burgundy all the year round.

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Hilaire Belloc

Joseph Hilaire Pierre René Belloc was an Anglo-French writer and historian who became a naturalised British subject in 1902, but kept his French citizenship. more…

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"Drinking Song, On the Excellence of Burgundy Wine" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 17 Nov. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/19182/drinking-song,-on-the-excellence-of-burgundy-wine>.

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